Now That We've Broken the Ice
by actingwithportals
Summary: Based on a prompt given to me by ask-the-mistakeorb. Chell finds herself having to teach the newly human Wheatley a lot about behaving in human ways. What better way than to show him how to have fun with a beloved winter pastime of ice skating? She quickly realizes this decision may have not been well thought out.


Wheatley had never liked water.

Whether it came from spending his entire life up until recently as a small metal orb filled with electrical wiring and gears that never responded well to even the slightest drops of condensation, or the fact that during his short amount of time in a human body his experiences with water have been nothing short of nearly drowning himself in the shower and other variants of the like, water and Wheatley were not friends.

As for whether or not that water was liquid or solid made no difference to him.

"Are-are you sure this is the best idea? I mean, not to say your ideas are ever bad–quite the opposite! Your ideas have always proven to be very brilliant! Whether it comes to button pressing, or where to aim big fancy lasers, or… throwing bombs at psychotic all-powerful AIs… everyone of those, brilliant ideas! But-but I'm not quite sure this particular idea makes the list. At least not anywhere near the top, not when compared to some of your past mind-blowing wonderful ideas. This one-this one seems to lack the same… pazazz, wouldn't you say? Just-just putting that idea out there. There for you to, um, consider, if you're feeling particularly nice today. Not to say that you aren't normally nice! You are, indeed, very very nice, all things considered… But if you're feeling especially nice, out of the ordinary nice, then maybe you'll consider another option for how we spend our time?"

Chell had only been half listening, completely zoning out about four sentences in. She was putting most of her focus into tying on Wheatley's ridiculously large skates, since he seemed too incompetent to lace them up himself. One of these days she was going to teach him to tie a proper knot instead of just looping the laces around each other multiple times and hoping they'll hold.

"It's fun," was her simple response to his anxieties. For them, this form of conversation was somewhat standard. He would drone on for ages, repeating himself multiple times, some for emphasis and some because he simply forgot he had already stated that, and then go off onto numerous unrelated tangents any time his mind decided to wander, which was frequent. Chell would respond with a few words, going straight to the point and sidestepping any unnecessary dressing to her intentions.

Wheatley had been with Chell for a few months now, and his ability to interact in normal social settings was still… rusty. He had no problems in being conversational, somewhere Chell could not say the same for herself, but what he had in speaking abilities he lacked in social tact and normalcy. Chell could barely so much as take him to the grocery store with her without having to worry about him getting distracted and running off, asking her a million questions about the simplest of things, bothering numerous innocent bystanders with his inability to keep his voice (and hands) to himself, and on occasion, almost getting himself killed by either running blindly into the street or falling into something disastrous.

He needed exposure to society, but slowly and very carefully. Chell decided that, winter coming closer now, it would be a good idea to show him what sort of things normal people did in the colder months for entertainment and necessity. He had responded well to the warmer food options, and despite his earlier complaints had begun taking a liking to the many layers of clothing he was now forced to wear. He especially enjoyed walking through the town at night and seeing all of the twinkling Christmas lights and listening to the excited babble of townspeople doing their late night shopping and browsing through the warm glow of the city streets.

In short, Wheatley had decided he loved winter, especially Christmas. But the snow that threatened to fall at any time, and the ice rink only yards away, awaiting his arrival, were far less pleasant in his eyes.

"Um, 'fun' is not the word I would be looking for here," he started, nervously glancing between the sharp-bladed shoes Chell was strapping to his feet and the large frozen over pond surrounded by the same sparkling yellow lights that decorated the streets surrounding them. "Try maybe 'dangerous' or 'deadly' or 'insane'? I like those words much better. Has a more accurate ring to it, don't you think?"

"No one dies from ice skating, Wheatley," Chell informed him, tying the knot of his last skate and pushing herself up to her feet. Her skates were already neatly strapped to her feet, and she stood with a balance that Wheatley couldn't even begin to process.

"And how do you know? Do you have some sort of directory of every single person in the world who has ever gone ice skating? Does such a directory even exist? Well, yes maybe, one probably does, and if it does exist it's not entirely unlikely you of all people would have gotten your hands on it…" he trailed of, looking back down at his skates in contemplation. "But! But just because you have never heard of anyone dying, or seriously injuring themselves, doesn't mean it won't happen to me! As a matter of fact, it's far more likely it will happen to me, as you so kindly like to point out several times a day, I have a tendency to be… accident prone."

"Oh, people get injured all the time," Chell informed him, a sneaky grin creeping over her face as she grabbed his hands and pulled him up. The task proved to me much more difficult now that he had on skates, and his normal levels of imbalance were suddenly tripled. After taking several moments to regain both his (and hers, as Wheatley so kindly used her as a handrail throughout all of this) balance, they finally both stood up straight with minimal resistance.

"You-you're just saying that, right?" Wheatley asked, a nervous laugh escaping him without his consent.

Chell's response was to grab his arm and start pulling him towards the rink. Wheatley had no choice but to follow, but he certainly made a scene out of it with nearly falling over every step of the way. Chell had to suppress a groan. If he could barely stand up straight on the concrete surrounding the rink, there was very little hope he'd be able to make it two inches on the ice without breaking something.

And this nearly proved to be true. The first step Wheatley took out onto the ice resulted in his immediate descent onto the cold wet ground, a very unwilling Chell following behind.

The amount of time it took for them to regain their balance outside the rink paled in comparison to the pains they went through getting back on their feet on the ice. Once Wheatley was safely secured to the side of the rink, his hands gripping the edges so hard his already white knuckles were starting to turn blue, Chell stood up straight and took a few steps back, standing two feet away from where Wheatley was grounded.

"Try moving forward," she commanded, holding out her hands for him to grab onto if he suddenly decided to reacquaint his face with the ice. She knew she was going to regret this decision in a few minutes.

"Right, yes, forward… Um… Not actually sure that is possible. Fairly certain any movement would not be possible at this point, unless that movement was in a more downward direction. Because as we have just figured out, that is a very possible direction to move in." Wheatley's eyes darted between the ground and Chell, his legs just barely able to continue holding him up at the awkward angle he had to position his tall stature in in order to hold onto the edge securely.

"Go slowly," Chell instructed. She realized this particular feat was going to take a lot longer than absolutely necessary, but luckily for her, and Wheatley, patience was something she had learned to acquire long ago.

"Are you sure we maybe couldn't do something else tonight? Something that doesn't involve being in close proximity to hard, freezing water and very dangerous sharp blades strapped to my feet? Because if you ask me this seems like a very bad idea, one that could only result in me getting one of these things lodged into my skull, which is, in fact, a lot more fragile than you make it seem." He still refused to let go of the side, gripping it tighter now.

Chell shot him a look, one not unlike what she would have given to a turret that refused to yield to her various attempts on its life.

Wheatley swallowed hard, taking note of the message silently sent to him. "Point taken, point taken…" Moving at a speed that would make snails seem like Olympic champions, Wheatley carefully inched towards Chell, his skates not even lifting an inch off the ground, and using the side of the rink to propel himself forward.

They progressed in this fashion for a while, getting all the way to the far end of the rink, in what should have only taken a few minutes, but for Wheatley took half an hour. Still, he showed at least minimal signs of getting the hang of things. Chell noted that his hands no longer looked blue and now were a much more pinkish color, and his eyes were no longer glued to the ice but would occasionally glance up in Chell's direction. Even the tight frown he had worn ever since their arrival was starting to loosen up.

"You're getting better," Chell commented, unable to deny the small feeling of pride swelling in her chest. Sure he was nowhere near able to actually skate on his own, but for Wheatley actually achieving movement for so long, with only about a dozen falls, this was an accomplishment.

"Nothing even remotely compared to you," he pointed out, sounding a little jealous about this but nothing out of the ordinary for him. "Are you skating backwards?"

Chell didn't respond. She only gave him a small satisfied grin. Skating was something she hadn't done often, but had found she had a natural knack for it.

"Of course you would be perfect at everything you do," Wheatley grumbled, continuing to inch himself forward and nearly taking another tumble when his skate caught on a ridge in the ice.

Chell made no comment to that. His statement was wrong in every aspect, but that was going to be a discussion for another day.

Another hour and Wheatley was making his way around the rink with only one hand on the edge. He still moved at a sluggish rate, but based on the lightened look in his eyes he was starting to enjoy himself.

"This isn't so bad," he commented, taking an especially long stride (for him at least) and actually managing to catch himself before falling over. "Still not a fan of the whole 'frozen water' bit, but luckily human bodies do not seem quite as susceptible to water damage as my old body was. Yep, much more durable in that respect, even if that were the only one. Still dings up a lot more, this body. Got quite a bit of purple and blue spots all over, all of them feeling a little less comfortable than I would particularly like, but nothing unbearable. Better than leaking that red stuff, that was not a fun experience, let me tell you."

Chell was now skating beside him, no longer feeling a need to hover quite so close on the chance he took a tumble. Though she would prefer to skate with a bit more speed, this leisurely pace was enjoyable in its own respect. People flew by them in brightly colored blurs of giggles and smiles and occasional awkward glances in Wheatley's less-than-inconspicuous direction. Chell didn't mind too much. She had already learned to get used to the uncomfortable stares from others when Wheatley was around. His tall stature and unnaturally blue eyes were strange enough, let alone the awkward atmosphere he left in his wake.

It was getting later into the night, and the crowds were starting to dwindle. Wheatley, feeling far braver than his usual cowardly manner, had chanced a few quick strides on his own without holding onto the sides. Only one of these ended without yet another fall, but he was proud of himself all the same. Chell would be lying if she said she didn't feel proud of him too.

"Let's go out there," Wheatley said, pointing to the center of the rink where earlier crowds of children had skated in circles far more dignified than Wheatley's own straight lines.

Chell raised an eyebrow at him. "There's nothing to hold onto," she warned him. And she was not going to be his handrail, if that's what he expected.

"Oh, it'll be fine," Wheatley said with a wave of his hand. "I've got you, don't I?"

Chell narrowed her eyes at him, giving him an impatient look.

"Look, I'll just hold onto your arm like this," he quickly explained, wrapping his free arm around hers, holding on with quite a bit more grip than was comfortable, but better than what it had been before. "And we'll be good to go! What do you say?"

Chell hesitated for a moment, rolling her eyes at his impossible inconsistency. The rink would be closing soon, and they were going to have to walk home somehow; having broken legs was going to make that a bit more difficult. Still, after a moment's consideration, Chell groaned and pivoted towards the center.

"Brilliant!" Wheatley attempted to follow suit, but only managed to lose his footing and have to grab onto Chell with both hands just to keep himself upright. Luckily Chell's legs were far stronger than his and were able to support both of them until he regained his footing.

They slowly but surely made their way to center, Chell keeping her eyes fixed hard on Wheatley's skates, waiting for the inevitable fall that was going to come at any moment. Wheatley, on the other hand, seemed to be blissfully unaware of his own imbalance. He was too busy looking up and around them, taking in all the twinkling lights and bright smiles of the other skaters that zoomed past.

"This… this is actually rather nice, isn't it?" he said, his voice now quieter than it had been all night. The sudden change of direction in his tone was enough to take Chell's hardened attention away from the task at hand and look around as well, following his gaze around the rink and the city streets beyond until eventually landing on his face, his blue eyes brighter than she had ever seen underneath the warm glow of the lights, and his expression lit up in a way Chell hadn't known was possible for him in this particular circumstance.

Slowly, the two of them skated onward, the most stable progression of movement they had managed all night. The world had faded into a warm quiet, surrounded only by swirling colors of gold and white and blue.

A smile crept over Chell's face. This was what it was like to be at peace.

…And in a second the moment was gone, replaced by the fall Chell had forgotten to prepare for, ending in a hard collapse onto the cold wet ground, Wheatley flat on his back and Chell ungraciously on top of him.

No words were spoken. The apologies that threatened to burst from Wheatley's lips were silenced by the brilliant grey of Chell's eyes only inches away from his own. Heavy breaths of surprise and the cold were the only noises to be heard, aside from the steadily growing pounding in Wheatley's chest.

In that moment, the world seemed to stop. Everything around them had faded into brilliant blurs of non-descriptive lights and shadows. The only thing that moved was the steady flow of pink that spread throughout their cheeks. Wheatley had never noticed before just how soft Chell's features could be when her concentration was taken away. The small upturns on the corners of her mouth, the lines around her eyes that melted away as they relaxed from their usually hardened state. She was as delicate as she was dangerous, an eye of a storm that had yet to show its true destruction.

And just like that the moment passed. Gone was the soft smile on Chell's face and the rosiness of her cheeks. They were replaced by the second coming of the hurricane that was Chell, crashing down around Wheatley like he were made of nothing but sand.

Wheatley had never liked water. And he especially never liked the way it looked when his nose dripped droplets of his blood along its hardened surface, produced by a well aimed blow to the face from a very surprised, very destructive grey storm.

But maybe, maybe he could learn to like the moments made in between the downpours.


End file.
